A Man of His Word
by jssbghgrl86
Summary: This is what should have happened after the infamous lime kiss in Season 4's Man of His Word. Anna doesn't shoot Sanko, and Syd and Vaughn aren't together ever since Nocturne, when Sydney told him what she was afraid of and how she felt betrayed by him fo
1. Prologue

_This is my first fic, so enjoy, and give me lots of feedback!!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, all is in fun...._

_Summary: This is what should have happened after the infamous lime kiss in Season 4's Man of His Word. Anna doesn't shoot Sanko, and Syd and Vaughn aren't together ever since Nocturne, when Sydney told him what she was afraid of and how she felt betrayed by him for marrying Lauren. Also, Weiss is backup with Vaughn at the club. I know the first part is a bit short, but I just wanted to get a little something in about what happened before they got there, to give a little more background. A little bit of S/V history stuff at the beginning, but it gets S/S, I promise!!!._

_Rating: K+ at the moment, will be rated M in later chapters  
_

Prologue

Sydney Bristow hated being blonde, but there was something rather exhilarating in it for her tonight. She thought it might be because tonight her alias was Lauren Reed. Specifically, she thought this would be exciting because of how insane it would make Vaughn to see her playing Lauren: the version of Lauren that was cheating on him with a younger good-looking man.

_He should be jealous,_ she thought to herself, as she put in her dark blue contact lenses. She knew it was vindictive, but she loved watching him become agitated when she flirted with other men in the office. She was hurt. He deserved to be also. Sydney hated Sark, but she had a feeling she would be enjoying this op.

She felt a pair of eyes at her back. She turned to see Vaughn, forcibly steeling himself up to what was to happen next. Affecting an English accent the graceful Agent Bristow asked of her former lover, "How's this?"

"Perfect," he snipped.

*** *** ***

Julian Sark missed his cars. More than any other amenity that he was without during his long incarceration, he missed his cars the most. This moment made up for it. He was standing outside of the hotel in Venice watching the valet drive around a two door Aston Martin V12 Vanquish Convertible in Jet Black. The car may as well have been painted in Sex, and the many other gawking guests at the hotel clearly agreed.

"Don't get any ideas of escape, there buddy," quipped Weiss. "She may be fast, but she's sure as shit not gonna get you away from that tracker and explosive device we've got implanted in you."

"I would never even have considered the idea, Agent Weiss. I said I was going to help you, so I'm going to help you."

"Yeah, right, whatever."

"I don't know why none of you people take me at my word," he retorted rather haughtily.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's because you're a mass murderer, terrorist, and you're selling out and old partner," returned Weiss, obviously pleased with himself.

"Has anyone ever thought that I might just want to work for the good guys now?" Sark asked innocently.

"No."

"Alright then," he answered, as he turned to inspect the car of his wet dreams. He walked lazily around the convertible, absentmindedly fingering the paint, enjoying the smooth sensation of the fresh coat of wax under his hands. As he reached the driver's side door, he stopped and automatically took a short quick breath.

He always enjoyed seeing Sydney. Despite her status as "enemy," he respected her talent, appreciated her brains and he never hid the fact that he found her to be quite stunning. Tonight, however, had anyone been looking for him to speak at this moment, he would have found it impossible to articulate a single syllable.

Sydney, as Lauren strutted out of the hotel through the revolving glass door, clad in black leather from head to toe. The heat radiated off the hood of the car, causing her skin and bright blonde hair to shimmer in the warm Italian night. She glared at him with cold piercing eyes, as if daring him to say anything at all.

The dare whipped him out of his reverie, as he snapped his well practiced crooked half smirk into place on his smooth, boyish face. He strode around the car quickly, opening the door for the beautiful agent. She glided into the car with neither a word nor glance at Sark. He was about to close the door after her, when a disgruntled Agent Vaughn pulled Sark aside by the collar.

"Be careful of the suit. Whoever pressed it did an excellent job. I would hate for their hard work to go to waste," dripped coolly out of his mouth.

"One misstep tonight, Sark, and I'll blow your head off," Michael quietly forced through gritted teeth.

Sark heard a barely audible 'hmph' from behind him, and smiled, snarling at Vaughn, "It would appear, Agent Vaughn, that mine are not the missteps you ought to be concerning yourself with."

Agent Vaughn, scowling, turned away, then quickly turned back pulling a quick jab to Sark's stomach. Sark let out a deep breathy cry, as Sydney jumped out of the car. She and Weiss pulled Vaughn off the bent over man, as Sark flashed an infuriating smirk in his direction, then at Sydney, then back at Michael.

"I'll be watching you all night you son-of-a-bitch. Don't think for one second that if you try anything I won't turn your brains to hamburger chuck! If you so much as look at her funny so help me God I'll..."

"Vaughn!" Sydney shouted. "You," she pointed at Vaughn, "stop it! We need him on this whether we like it or not."

"And you," she added, pointing to a now upright Sark, "stop baiting him! You have no power here, and as soon as we get back to the States, you are back in that cell, never to be seen or heard from again."

Sydney sidled back into the car, and both Sark and Vaughn raced to the door to close it for her. Sark got there first, closed the door lightly and lifted his eyebrow nearly imperceptibly to Agent Vaughn as he stalked around to the other side of the car. He jauntily tossed open the door, slid into the black leather seat, and slammed the door shut. He turned up the Euro-Trash punk that was on the radio, and skidded out from under awning into the sultry Mediterranean night.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Anastasia Stavistovksy needed a shot of cold vodka and a good fuck. First, however, there was business to be attended to. Her business was that of her boyfriend, Boris Sanko. They were arms dealers, and were meeting a contact tonight. Ana, being new to this particular consortium, had responsibilities no more grave at the moment than eye candy. If everything went according to plan this evening, that was about to change.

Ana recalled her first meeting with the Cuban borne Russian woman, Anna Espinosa. She was instantly attracted by her deep silky voice and her sensual movements. Anna's quality was so different from the terse, practiced sex appeal of most of the women in the spy trade, that she couldn't help but to find herself aroused.

It wasn't easy convincing Anna to acquire the device for her. She was hoping that she could proceed without having to namedrop, but Boris Sanko was one of the few people for whom a thief could go out on a limb and be confident that it would be worth their while to do so.

"Alright sweet-heart, you have one week to find a buyer for my product," Anna Espinosa said, as she languidly drew from a cigarette. "You will contact me when you find a buyer or not at all. The arrangements will then take three days. Do you have any questions?"

"Just - Just one..." stuttered Ana nervously.

"Yes?" The word spilled off Espinosa's tongue like smooth coffee beans out of a waxy bag.

"Will I be making the trade directly with you or with an associate?" Ana spat out quickly.

The other woman smiled knowingly. "I look forward to our next meeting very much." With a soft, slow kiss on the cheek and in a puff of smoke, Anna Espinosa was gone.

When Anastasia reported back that she acquired the chemical weapon, Boris was furious that she had gone behind his back to run a job of her own. He smacked her across the face, in that place that all men seem to know how to backhand women. It felt to her as though shards of her cheekbone had impaled her brain. She fell to the floor with a cry.

"That rat bastard!" she murmured to herself as he stormed from the room.

She grabbed her bed post and heaved herself off the ground, her body shaking, trying to cry, but without tears coming out. She heard Boris' quick heavy footsteps muted on the thick carpeting in the hallway outside of their room. The door opened noiselessly.

"I will arrange for a buyer. We will do this my way. No one but your contact will know you made the arrangements. If this goes well, you will be promoted to my second in command. If it fails, I will kill you."

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he slammed the door and strode off down the hall. She knew he was proud of her. Her chest puffed out, and her chin turned up, just a little bit.

*** *** ***

Boris Sanko needed another shot of Tequila and a good fuck. As he turned the corner of the balcony of the crowded nightclub, Ana on his arm, drunk and giggling per usual, he spotted that pretty-boy Sark with his newest conquest. They were whispering together on a couch, Sark luxuriously splayed across the cushions, the woman, Reed if he wasn't mistaken, perched on the arm rest. Her legs were crossed with her right ankle just grazing his right knee. They were the most beautiful couple in the room, and it was impossible not to notice all of the eyes staring at them from the dance floor.

"There is no way they're getting out of here without putting on a show for us," he growled into Ana's ear, nipping it roughly as he spoke. "Mr. Sark!"

"Sanko, it's good to see you," replied Julian, as he shook the larger man's hand.

"And you must be Lauren Reed," he answered, acknowledging Sydney. She inclined her head shortly in response. "What a pleasure to meet you after so long," he slurred slightly as he took her hand, kissing it.

_Be smooth Boris. Appearing drunk and adoring will get you no where with this one_.

"The pleasure is all mine, obviously," the blonde returned brusquely.

Sanko handed the group shots with a robust, "Let us toast. To CRF, hmm? Salud!" taking half of his shot. He threw Ana down on their couch, poured the other half between her breasts, and lapped it up, shaking his head like an Airedale in a water bowl.

The talk turned to business, boring Boris incredibly, until something that Lauren said grabbed his attention.

"The one you hired Anna Espinosa to steal."

Boris was shocked. He was unaware that Ana had used such a prestigious and highly sought after man for her job. He was impressed.

_I may have to keep her yet._

"Obviously you've never heard of her," Sydney smiled at him. "Sorry to waste your time," she said, rising to leave.

"You want something from me? I want something from you my dear," Sanko snarled. Sark sat forward in his seat, glaring at Sanko, knowing what to expect.

"And what is that?" Sydney returned, entirely nonplussed.

Smiling toothily Boris replied "Mr. Sark has told me about your, predilections. I have a room above this club. I'd like to watch that - for myself."

Boris noticed Sark lean back in his chair apprehensively, watching his woman to see what she would say.

Again, startlingly calm, Sydney picked up a shot of tequila and a lime. While shoving the lime into Sark's mouth without ever looking at him, she answered Sanko. "I'm sure Julian has told you, we never mix business with pleasure."

The hot drink slipped down the woman's throat, but she gave no indication that it fazed her as she attacked her perceived lover's mouth. She kissed him long and hard, sucking on the lime while their tongues swirled around the cool tart skin.

Sanko watched in rapt excitement, picturing all of the things he was confident he would be viewing later tonight. He noticed that Ana was grasping his inner thigh tightly, rubbing it with her thumb.

"Don't worry baby, you can watch too," he cooed to her, inaudible to the couple entangled in each other on the opposite couch.

Sark grabbed Sydney's ankle and pulled her knee down so it was between his legs. She grabbed the sides of his face, running her fingers through his hair. His hands clawed at her skin as he roughly shoved his arms up the back of her shirt, pulling her body closer to his as she hovered over him.

"Ow!" he cried, as she pulled away, lime, triumphantly in mouth. He reached for a napkin to dab at the blood that she drew from his bottom lip.

"I told you she was special," Sark muttered rather angrily.

"Oh yes. She is indeed special," Sanko answered, plans forming and dissolving in his mind at a rate too quick to process just yet.

"I want one!" bubbled Ana, clumsily stepping over the small table, blundering her equally bubbly rear end onto Sark's one vacant knee. A steely switch-blade knife glare from the blonde woman on the opposite knee stopped Ana in her tracks for just a moment. She laughed heartily, grabbed a lime, and gracelessly positioned it between Sydney's half parted lips, still full and a bit bruised from her previous tart encounter.

"You were worried there girly, that she wanted your boy? Ha!" Sanko laughed boorishly.

Ana swept Sydney's blonde locks off of her shoulder, took a shot of tequila, cringed, and swooped up aggressively towards the other woman's mouth. Syd was nearly knocked over from her precarious perch on her nemesis' knee, but Sark steadied her with a hand at her back. She grabbed his forearm and held it tight, while she tentatively placed her other hand behind the girl's tricep. Ana deepened the kiss, expertly pulling the lime to the side while deftly thrusting her tongue into the corners of Sydney's mouth.

Ana pulled away tenderly and smiled at Sydney, who offered up her own kind, if slightly uncomfortable smile in return.

"Mr. Sark, I consider myself to be a very lucky man," boomed Sanko, "but I have never met a man as lucky as you have been tonight. To that, my friend, to that I will drink!" Sanko picked another lime up off of the tray and looked down his nose devilishly at the blonde woman sitting across from him.

"I'm sure Julian would be more than happy to hold your lime for you Mr. Sanko," calmy speaking while clutching at Sark's knee, as though asking him for help.

Sanko offered the lime to Julian, who bowed graciously in accepting it.

"As flattered as I am Mr. Sanko, I'm afraid that I must toast my own incredible luck as well."

Sanko grabbed another lime, shoved it unceremoniously into Ana's mouth, took a shot, and proceeded to plunder his score. The couple opposite watched them until they finished, and the other pair came up for air, turning to them expectantly.

Sark turned to the woman, now seated on the soft black leather couch next to him, dressed herself in soft black leather. He looked, almost frightened, at the lime in his hand. He lifted his eyes and gazed timidly into Sydney's wide, falsely blue ones. She gave him the slightest scowl as she inclined her head to him, opened her mouth, and accepted the lime. As his fingertips grazed her lips she shuddered perceptibly.

Sark raised his glass to Ana, but looked into Sydney's eyes again while swallowing the hot liquid. An eternity seemed to Boris to have passed while Sark softly touched the side of Sydney's face and pulled her in towards him. He slowly sucked the juices out of the fruit, barely touching his lips to hers. When the lime ran dry, he removed the fruit from her lips and kissed her chin, drinking down the juice that spilled from her mouth. He kissed her hard once, as her hands migrated up to his jacket, pulling him towards her. They parted quietly, and looked at the ground rather nervously.

The tender moment was punctured by a squeal from Ana. "Oh Lauren! I love this song, come dance with me! You just must!"

With a barely concealed moment of fear, the blonde stood, accepting Ana's hand. "Julian, are you really going to let us out onto the dance floor unaccompanied?"

"Why wouldn't I pet?" he smiled slyly.

"Do you really trust other men with me? Or me with them for that matter?" she laughed nervously.

Facade of humor dropped from his face, he answered, "No. I don't," and rose to join the women on the dance floor.

_This is going to be an interesting night_, Boris thought to himself. He couldn't help but notice though, Reed's panicked need to not let Sark be alone with him. He brushed it off as if there was nothing to the thought, and rose to join the three young people on the dance floor.


End file.
